


Photograph

by Starwolf69



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adult Language, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clueless Aziraphale (Good Omens), Copious amounts of alcohol - Freeform, Damaged Crowley, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24868372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starwolf69/pseuds/Starwolf69
Summary: Human AU -- AJ Crowley, one-time world famous photojournalist, fell from grace in his field and is now taking studio photographs.  One day, a client comes in for baby pictures and gives Crowley something he has been missing -- hope for the future.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 115
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Baby

“Good morning, AJ,” Misti, the studio receptionist chirped at him. “Three sessions this morning – two engagement sessions and one baby.” 

AJ Crowley rolled his eyes behind his dark glasses as he stalked by the front desk, snatching his session information sheets off the desk as he passed. He sneered at the papers. Engagement pictures, baby pictures indeed. He just wanted to get through this day and go home and drink himself unconscious. He stomped into his studio for the day, kicking the door shut.

After taking off his dark glasses, he dragged his hand down his face with a sigh. He unpacked his camera, the only thing, aside from his car, that he actually gave a shit about, himself included. He had been existing on sarcasm and alcohol for the past several years. Ever since that incident. The one he was reminded of every time he saw the scars. The one that haunted his dreams and made him scream himself awake when he hadn’t adequately dulled his mind with copious amounts of alcohol.

His first appointment flounced into the studio, making demands as she sat down in front of the backdrop. Crowley smiled at her, which was more baring of his teeth, as he arranged the lights. He felt her eyes sliding over his long, lean frame. For someone who was getting engagement photos taken, she definitely seemed to be checking him out thoroughly. Reaching up over his head to change the angle of a light, he graced her with a peek at his side as his shirt rode up. Once he was ready, he spent the next hour shooting boring, predictable picture of the bride-to-be. 

“Proofs will be ready next week,” he grunted at her. “Just make an appointment with Misti.”

“Will you be going over them with me?” she purred.

“Hardly,” he snorted. “Have a day.”

Turning his back on her, he began resetting the studio for his next appointment. After an hour with a mousey kindergarten teacher who insisted on telling him about her fiancé, an accountant or something boring like that, he was ready to go home. He plastered an interested look on his face and thought about lunch. Food and alcohol were the only things that brought a little interest out in him. More boring photos and he was able to send her on her way. He reset the studio for his next session. Oh, joy! A baby. He hoped it wasn’t an ugly one. Even he couldn’t make ugly babies look better. He was good, but damn, you can’t make ice cream out of shit.

He had his back to the door, setting a light when he heard someone clearing their throat. He assumed it was the baby session. He checked his information sheet – a Mr. Fell. Crowley turned, his eyes widening when he gazed at the man standing at the studio door. He gave Crowley a nervous smile. Crowley stared. He was literally struck by this cherub of a man who was lighting up the darkness that was the photographer’s world.

“Uh. Hello. I believe we are next,” Mr. Fell murmured. 

“Ngk,” Crowley answered, pointing at the table he had set up for the shoot.

Mr. Fell hurried across the studio, placing the baby carrier and his leather satchel out of the way after he fished a plump little one out. The child already had a mop of brown curls and big blue eyes. Crowley watched as Mr. Fell cuddled the child before sitting him in the baby seat on the table. Mr. Fell smiled at him as he stood behind the table, one hand on the baby. 

“This is Adam,” he told Crowley, nodding at the baby. 

“Okay,” Crowley croaked. 

Mr. Fell looked at him expectantly. Crowley shook himself and reset the lights and the backdrop to something more appropriate for a baby. He re-propped the baby, getting the best pose he could to start. Adam gave him a toothless grin. Crowley quirked a tiny smile. He liked kids, in theory, but in practice, most of them were just little tyrants. This one, however, seemed tolerable. Crowley did up the little safety belt to keep the baby, Adam, in the seat. Mr. Fell kept his hand on the baby. 

“So, you’re gonna have to move your hand,” Crowley said, crouching in front of the table. “He’s belted in so he’s not going anywhere.”

Mr. Fell slowly took his hand away and stepped to the side. Adam’s eyes followed. Crowley frowned. He snapped his fingers over his head, trying to get the child’s attention. Adam looked up at the sound and Crowley snapped the first photo. The photographer grinned and fell into a groove, catching several shots of a toothless, slobbery grin from his subject.

The hour passed too quickly. Crowley took a few more shots then stood slowly. He stretched, hoping Mr. Fell noticed the strip of skin exposed as his shirt rode up a tiny bit. Turning to face the man, he smiled. 

“So. Do you want a few father-son shots too?” he asked.

Mr. Fell’s brow furrowed before he answered, “Oh, um, well, I’m not . . . you see, Adam is my nephew. My sister, Michaela, his mother, she . . . she isn’t able to take care of him. So I stepped in and here we are.”

Crowley shrugged. “Well, then maybe some uncle-nephew photos?”

Mr. Fell smiled brightly at him and Crowley felt his stomach do a little flip. Mr. Fell unbuckled Adam and picked him up, making the child coo happily. Crowley shifted the table out of the scene and replaced it with a chair. He moved the lights as Mr. Fell sat down, settling Adam in his lap. 

Crowley knelt and checked his shot. “Head up, just a bit. That’s it. Adam. Oi! Look here, kiddo!”

He got several excellent shots of them before it was time to end the session. He hooked his camera up to his laptop and began downloading the pictures. Mr. Fell got Adam strapped back into the baby carrier and gathered his satchel. 

“Thank you for your time, Mr. . . . uh . . .”

“Crowley,” the photographer said. Gazing into Mr. Fell’s eyes, he added, “AJ Crowley, at your service.”

“Mr. Crowley,” Mr. Fell repeated. “When will these be ready?”

“I can have the proofs ready in a week,” Crowley told him. “Make an appointment with Misti and we’ll see which ones you want to order.”

“You’ll review them with us?” Mr. Fell asked. 

Crowley grinned. “Of course. Looking forward to it. Just tell Misti to block me off for a proof review.”

The blonde dug around in his satchel one-handed, retrieving a small, gold card case. He flipped it open and pulled out a cream-colored business card. He handed the card to Crowley then dropped the case back in his satchel. Crowley read the card – A. Z. Fell and Co. Rare Book Dealers Azira Fell, Proprietor. Crowley looked up at him.

Mr. Fell smiled. “Thank you, again, Mr. Crowley. We’ll see you next week.” 

Crowley watched the man leave the studio. He turned with a sigh and settled in at his laptop. He scrolled past the first two sessions, utterly disinterested. He scrolled slowly through the baby pictures, mentally noting a few that he liked. Once he came to the pictures of the blonde man holding his nephew, Crowley stopped. He gazed at the screen, losing himself in the man’s bright blue eyes. He rolled the card across his fingers. He couldn’t tell if Mr. Fell was interested or not, but he certainly planned on trying to figure that out over some proofs.

“Okay, AJ,” he mumbled to himself. “You have a week to get yourself unfucked up and irresistible.”


	2. Age 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Azira have become friends over the past two year. Crowley spent the day at Pride taking photos then comes to the bookshop for a visit with his two favorite people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's scars -- all will be reveled later. They aren't self-inflicted but they cause him a lot of angst. Just giving you all a head's up.

TWO YEARS LATER

Crowley strolled into the bookshop after spending most of the day at the Pride parade taking photos. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and put his camera down on the counter. He had filled one memory card and part of another. Two years ago, he would have spent the day hiding in his house romancing a bottle of Jim Beam. All in all, it had been a good day. Now, even better, he was going to have dinner with his two favorite people. He grinned when he heard little footfalls coming from the backroom. 

“CWOW-YEE!” Adam shrieked, racing toward the photographer. 

He crouched so Adam could hug him. Chubby arms went around his neck as Adam gave him a sticky kiss on the cheek. Crowley stood, walking toward the kitchen which was in the backroom. 

“Hungee?” Adam asked. “Zir make sammiches.”

Adam’s fingers brushed against Crowley’s bare shoulder. He frowned and wiggled to look at Crowley’s shoulder. He ran his fingers over the taut, ridged skin. Crowley winced. His tank top didn’t hide much; his scars on his shoulders and upper arms were on full display. He didn’t give shit one what anyone else thought, but he didn’t want to scare Adam. He tried to put Adam down so he could put his overshirt, currently tied around his waist, back on. Adam, however, was having none of it.

“Cwow-yee hurt!” he yipped. “ZIR! Zir, fix!”

Crowley winced again, trying to put the child down so he could cover up before Azira saw. He’d been working on getting to the more than friends level for the past two years and he wasn’t going to blow it because of his disgusting body. Adam stubbornly clung to him, frowning as he ran his fingers over the scarred flesh.

“Adam!” Azira called hurrying out of the kitchen. “What’s . . . Oh, Crowley! You’re early!”

“Zir,” Adam insisted. “Zir fix! Hurt!”

Azira gave Crowley a questioning look. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Crowley shook his head, handing Adam over to the other man. He quickly untied the overshirt and pulled it on, making sure to keep his back turned away from the other man. Adam wiggled in Azira’s arms, kicking his feet into his uncle’s hip. Azira put the child down with a tiny frown. Adam skittered over to Crowley and put his arms up. Crowley was bending over to pick the child up before he really knew what he was doing.

“Hurt!” Adam announced. “Zir fix.”

Crowley made a face. “I’m okay, kiddo. Hey, how about we take some pictures? It’s about time for you to get your yearly pictures taken. We can do a few practice shots here in the bookshop.”

Adam grunted and wiggled to get down. “No.”

“No?”

The child stared at him. “No.”

“Why?” Crowley asked.

Adam gazed at him and said, “Zir fix. THEN picture.”

Azira looked concerned. “Crowley, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Angel,” he said with a smile at the blonde’s pet name. “Just got a little sunburned, that’s all. One of the perils of being a redhead.”

Azira smiled and crouched to speak to Adam. “Crowley is fine, darling. He got a little sunburned, that’s all. Now, what shall we do before dinner?”

The child gave Crowley a look of disbelief then yawned broadly. Crowley shook his head and scooped Adam up. He settled into a comfortable rocking chair and turned on the flat screen TV he had set up for his visits. Adam snuggled close, sucking his thumb as he stared at the television. Crowley flipped channels until he found a rerun of The Golden Girls. He rocked gently as Adam fell asleep in his arms. He felt eyes upon him. He looked up to find Azira watching him with a tiny smile. 

“What?” Crowley murmured.

“Nothing,” Azira said, still smiling. “Comfy?”

Crowley grinned. “I could do with a cuppa.”

“Of course.”

“Lots of sugar.”

“Of course.”

Azira disappeared into the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with two cups of tea and a small plate of biscuits. He put their tea down on the side table before scooping Adam up and taking him upstairs for a nap. Crowley settled on the sofa, stretching his long legs out. He was pretty sure that sprawling out on Azira’s sofa in cargo shorts, combat boots, and a long-sleeved over shirt wasn’t going to spark lust in the other man’s heart. Crowley has moved slower with Azira than he every had in the past. Typically, if he hadn’t gotten a leg over in a month, he would have fucked off to greener pastures. But there was something about Azira that made him just want to be around him. In the past two years, he had become a fixture in the bookshop and in Azira and Adam’s lives. 

“There,” Azira said coming down the stairs with a bottle of bright green aloe gel in his hand. “Now, let’s get some aloe on that sunburn, shall we?”

Crowley sat up and made a face. “Nah, Angel, it’s okay. Let’s just have our tea and watch The Golden Girls.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble,” Azira said, putting the bottle on the table next to the sofa. 

“Just sit with me. We . . . we could look at the photos I took. If you want,” Crowley said, blushing a bit. 

Azira smiled brightly. “I’d love to see your photos!”

Crowley got up and retrieved his camera. He put the full card in and began scrolling through the photos. Azira praised each one, making Crowley puff up a little with pride. When they had looked at all the photos, Crowley put his camera down on the table by the sofa. He stretched his legs back out, crossing his legs at the ankle. Azira sat next to him, close enough to touch if he really wanted to. He wiggled a bit, ending up leaning against Azira. He didn’t look at the blonde, just continued  
gazing at the TV. Smooth, he was. 

“Bringing Adam in this week?” Crowley asked softly. 

“I am,” Azira answered. 

“You know, I’d do photos of him for you for free, right?”

Azira nodded. “I know. But, we . . . we sort of have a routine, don’t we? Anyway, it’s how we met and I like to remember it.”

Crowley smiled. “Me, too, Angel. Me too.”


	3. Seven years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Azira have become consistent companions over the years. Could they become more? Maybe. But Crowley needs to tell Azira about his past first.

FIVE YEARS LATER

Azira put out a plate of biscuits and set the kettle on to boil. Adam would be coming home from school any moment and Crowley was stopping by with Adam’s seven-year-old photos. He smiled to himself. The photographer had become like family to him and Adam over the past seven years. Not that the blonde wouldn’t love to take it further, but he never felt it was the right moment. Azira set out plates and a glass for Adam’s milk. He had a surprise for Crowley that he couldn’t wait to share. 

“Angel!” a familiar voice called as the bell above the door jingled.

“In the kitchen!” Azira answered.

Crowley strolled into the kitchen, a package under one arm. He grinned at the other man before dropping his sunglasses on the table. He handed the package to Azira before stepping around him to make the tea. The blonde frowned.

“This feels heavier than what I ordered,” he murmured.

Crowley shrugged. “I may have put a few extras in there. It happens.” 

Azira smiled and said, “Funny, that. It seems to happen to me a lot.”

“Well, I know you like to send pictures to your mum and to your sister. I just wanted to be sure you had enough to share,” Crowley said measuring tea into the infuser.

“Crowley, you won’t get in trouble, will you?”

“Naw, Angel, it’s cool.”

Azira put the package on his desk and cleared his throat. “I . . . I have something for you, dear boy.”

Crowley grinned. “Yeah?”

At that moment, the front door opened followed by the sound of something being dropped on the floor before Adam appeared in the doorway. He hugged his uncle then hugged Crowley. Settling in to the table, he grabbed a biscuit and nibbled.

“How was school today?” Azira asked, regaining his composure.

“Boring,” Adam answered. “I had to write a theme about my family.”

“Oh?”

Adam nodded. “So I wrote that I lived with my uncle and that I go visit my nan sometimes and that even though Crowley doesn’t live with us he’s still kind of our family.”

“Sounds like a lovely theme,” Azira told him as he poured a glass of milk. “Homework right after snack, okay?”

Crowley made two mugs of tea and joined Azira and Adam at the table. He listened as the child told about his day at school. He sipped at his tea with a happy sigh. 

These, in his opinion, were the best afternoons – just hanging out with Adam and Azira, nothing more expected from him than to be himself. It was one of the few times in his life that he was completely relaxed. 

Once Adam had finished his snack and headed upstairs to do his homework, Crowley looked over at Azira and smiled softly. The blonde gave him a fond smile and suggested they finished their tea in the living room. Crowley followed him to the other room, settling in on the sofa. Azira muttered to himself as he searched through a pile of books, giving a little squeak of glee when he found what he was looking for. He hurried over to the sofa and sat next to Crowley. 

“I was at a book auction and, well, I couldn’t resist,” he said with a blush as he handed Crowley a coffee table book full of very artistic photos of ducks.

“Thanks, Angel,” Crowley said as he began flipping through the book. He really did like ducks and he thought it was pretty cool that Azira thought about him while at he was out.

“That’s not all,” Azira said softly. “I . . . Well . . . This was the main one I wanted.”

He handed another book over to Crowley. The redhead paled a little, holding the book in trembling hands. He stared at the cover, unsure of what to do. 

“It . . . It’s a collection of your work,” Azira murmured. “See? Collected Works of AJ Crowley.”

Crowley swallowed. He drew a shaking breath and leafed through the book with trembling hands. Azira sat next to him on the sofa, watching him carefully. 

“Crowley?” he asked softly. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” he answered. “Just . . . Just surprised, that’s all.”

“So was I when I saw it,” Azira continued. “I had to look at the last page to be sure it was you! It’s a great photo of you, dear boy.”

Crowley flipped to the last page to find a photo of himself. He was in a tank top and tight jeans, his camera hanging around his neck. He was staring directly at the photographer. Cocky, young, and arrogant, it was a distant memory of the person he used to be. Before that last assignment. Before his fall. 

“Angel,” he whispered. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.” 

Azira looked a little worried. “Crowley? I hope I didn’t upset you. I just . . . I saw it and I had to have it. I wanted it for you.”

The redhead gave him a shaky smile. His heart pounded. He had to say something, had to tell Azira about his past. If the other man could accept him and his past, they were truly meant to be. He had felt the fluttering of attraction coming from his angel, but he needed to be sure that Azira could handle his past. He opened his mouth the speak, but the other man cut him off.

“Adam is going to go stay with my mom this weekend. Michaela is coming for a visit and wants to see him. Maybe you would consider spending the weekend? With me?” Azira asked, sounding half hopeful and half terrified.

Crowley pressed his lips together. He took Azira’s hands in his as he turned to face him. Squeezing the other man’s hands, he nodded with a soft smile. 

“Dinner first,” he said softly. “Then drinks and we’ll see what happens. I . . . I have stuff that I think I’m ready to tell you.”

“Bad something?” Azira asked, concern clouding his blue eyes.

Crowley shrugged. “Just . . . stuff I have to tell you. Before . . . before we take this further.”

Azira stroked his thumbs over Crowley’s knuckles. “Then I will listen. But, know that there is nothing you can tell me that would change how I feel.”

The redhead gave him a hopeful smile. “I’ll make reservations for dinner on Friday. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

They stood at the same time, still holding hands. Azira took a deep breath and placed a soft, shy kiss on Crowley’s cheek. 

“To dinner,” he murmured. “And maybe more?”

“Maybe, Angel. Maybe.”


	4. Dinner and Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Azira go to dinner then back to Azira's place where Crowley tells him of his fall. TW: war violence and burn scars are revealed.

Crowley could barely choke down his dinner. He sat with his angel in a cute little restaurant, not too fancy but excellent food. Azira ate heartily, praising the food with nearly every bite. Crowley liked watching him eat; he did it with such joy and gusto. Crowley nibbled at the food on his plate. Everything tasted like ash and smoke. He knew it was because of what he was going to tell Azira later. For the past week leading up to their date, he had been having nightmares about that night, reliving it in his dream and waking with a shout in a cold sweat. They made small talk through dinner, each a little nervous as this dinner together felt different.

“Dessert?” Azira asked, sounding a little hopeful. 

Crowley smiled at him. “Of course, Angel. Shall we have it here or get it to go?”

“Whatever you please.”

“I think,” Crowley said slowly, “We should have dessert here then drinks at your place?”

Azira gazed at him, blue eyes shining. When the server came back, he ordered a chocolate dessert for them to share. Once they had finished, Crowley paid and escorted Azira back to his car. Tension bounced around the car, both men feeling nervous about what was going to happen next. Once they arrived and Crowley parked, he offered his arm to Azira as they walked into the bookstore. 

“Tea, coffee, or . . . something stronger?” Azira called from the kitchen as Crowley settled on the sofa.

“Whatever you think, Angel.”

Azira joined him with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He placed them on the coffee table and sat next to Crowley. He poured two glasses, handing one to Crowley and taking a sip from his own. Crowley looked nervous and, strangely, a little sad.

“Crowley?” Azira asked gently. “What can I do?”

“I . . . I want to tell you about why I’m no longer in the news business and explain a few things before we . . . that is, before this goes . . . what I’m trying to say is . . .”

Azira smiled encouraging. He took Crowley’s hands in is own. He gently stroked his thumbs over Crowley’s knuckles. He would wait as long as it took for Crowley to tell him what he felt he needed to say. Azira has already made up his mind – he had grown to love AJ Crowley, first as a friend and then romantically. He finally felt ready to take things to the next step, but he worried about Crowley and what he was going to say. 

“Crowley,” he began, “AJ, I have grown to care about you. I’ve . . . I’ve never felt this way before and it’s a little scary. Mostly I’m scared you don’t feel the same way.”

“Ngk, Angel,” the redhead groaned. “I do feel the same way. I have since that first day. I just . . . Angel, after I tell you this, if you want me to leave, just say so, okay?”

Azira squeezed his hands, knowing he’d never turn the other man away. Even if they just remained friends, he couldn’t imagine life without the photographer there with him and Adam. He continued gently stroking the other man’s hands, in an attempt to help him relax.

“I was on assignment overseas,” Crowley began softly. “It was a pretty rough – lots of insurgents and sneak attacks. You never knew what was going to happen next. Nothing ever happened out in the open; it was always a surprise. We weren’t safe either, just because we were journalists. It was pretty bad.”

“I bet it was,” Azira replied, trying to encourage him to keep talking.

Crowley took a sip of wine. “I had gone out that night, you know, just to blow off some steam. That’s when I met him.”

“H-Him?” Azira asked. 

Crowley looked down at his hands. “Yeah. He was a local. I was lonely, Angel, and seriously drunk. We went back to my hotel. It was a secure location. You could only get in if you were staying there. He . . . he wanted to come home with me, so I said yes.”

“Oh,” Azira said softly. “Did you . . . ah, I mean, I assume . . .”

“I don’t really remember,” . . . Crowley said softly. “I always assumed we did but I was so drunk, I don’t remember. I woke up alone so I assumed that, well, yeah.”

“So that’s why you lost your job? Because of a one night . . . indiscretion?” Azira asked.

Crowley shook his head, gripping Azira’s hands. “He . . . the guy . . . I woke up and there was smoke everywhere. I had time to get dressed and grab my wallet and my camera. I ran out of the room and that’s when it happened – it’s like the building shifted.”

“An earthquake?” Azira asked.

Crowley shook his head. “A bomb. I was thrown against the wall and it knocked me out for a few minutes. When I came to, there was fire all around me. I . . . I could hear people running and screaming. I found my way outside. It was utter chaos.”

Azira squeezed his hands as Crowley continued. “I heard screaming coming from inside. Some woman was running around shouting about her kids. They were inside. I gave her my camera and I went in after her kids.”

“Oh, Crowley!” Azira gasped. 

“It took me a minute to find her room. I got her kids out and went back in to try to help some of the injured out. That’s when it happened. I don’t remember it all, but fire flared and I grabbed some woman and dragged her outside before I collapsed. My . . . my shirt was on fire from my last time in. I got burned bad enough that ended up in the hospital.”

“You’re a hero!” Azira exclaimed. “But what happened that you lost your job?”

“But I’m not,” Crowley moaned. “It’s my fault. The guy that I brought home that night was the bomber. The hotel saw us on their security cameras and called my onsite boss who called head office. That afternoon, the onsite boss came to the hospital and told me that I was fired. They’d pay for me to get home once I was able to travel but that was it.”

Crowley took a drink. “When I got home, I couldn’t get work to save my life. It was blacklisted, fallen. Which is how I ended up doing portraits.

“Oh, Crowley!” Azira said, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

Crowley squeezed his hands and stood. He locked eyes with Azira and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Azira’s eyes were locked on Crowley’s hands as they moved down his shirt. When his shirt hung from his shoulders, open in the front, he took a deep breath and let the shirt slide from his body. He winced and turned around so Azira could see his shoulders and back.

Azira looked at the scars the crisscrossed the redhead’s back and shoulders. He stood and moved to stand close enough to touch. Slowly raising his hand, he lightly stroked the scars, learning them by touch, memorizing them as a part of Crowley. He let his hand pet the other man’s back from shoulders to waist and back up again. 

“AJ?” he murmured.

“Yeah?”

“Your scars look like wings,” he whispered reverently. “Angel’s wings.”

“I’m no angel,” Crowley murmured.

Azira was quiet for a moment, still stroking the other’s back. “I . . . Will you stay?”

“I’d really like that,” Crowley answered with a soft moan at the petting. “We don’t have do anything if you don’t want to. We can just, you know, sleep together. And really sleep.”

Azira circled him slowly, coming to face him. He placed a very soft kiss on the redhead’s nose and then one on his lips. Crowley looked surprised then broke into a grin. He slid his arms around Azira’s waist and pulled him close before kissing him very gently. Azira sighed into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck. As they slowly broke the kiss, Azira nuzzled against Crowley’s neck.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmured. “I want to be close to you. And I promise that you won't wake up alone.”

“Lead the way, Angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update. RL has been brutal. I'll update the next chapter sooner. Thanks for hanging in with me!


End file.
